


The marshland

by Dragonsden



Series: Cautionary tales for the traveller [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cautionary Tale, Drowning, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Hypnotism, Nature personified, Near Death Experiences, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsden/pseuds/Dragonsden
Summary: You know the stories, and still you seek the quick path
Series: Cautionary tales for the traveller [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138235
Kudos: 7





	The marshland

**Author's Note:**

> Let's give it a try shall we? First story on AO3. It's inspired by the folklore surrounding the Nøkk (the nix in English), a type of Fae in Scandinavian lore

There is a pond in the forest where I grew up. And please don't think of one of those stylish ponds with cut grass and finely trimmed bushes, this is a pond that would send a gardener screaming. Once upon a time it was a lake, with clear water, brimming of life. Now, moss and grass have conquered large parts of it, and the only life there is the blooming water-lilies. Its marsh-covered areas look solid enough, there are even small trees growing on it. But there are no large trees and if you step on it, it moves.

If you were to walk across it, for it's the shortest route, and it would save you some daylight it would take a single misstep to break the surface and plunge through. If you're lucky, it's just the one leg sinking down you down to your hip, leaving the foot dangling, for there would be no bottom. Only layers upon layers of dead moss, grass, and other things that live in that border between water and land. You will probably get the leg up by yourself, a little worse for wear but well enough to keep on walking. You may even make it across. 

If you're not that lucky, and you won't be, for It hungers, you'll end up swimming. You will feel your feet meeting resistance, but never enough to carry your weight. For there will be no rock and no roots to step on. Maybe you'll even break through all the layers, down to the water below, treading above the abyss. You don't want to be doing that, for you know what lurks in ponds such as these. Your parents told you, the stories told you. 

So, you begin to move towards the edge of the marsh, slowly, and painstakingly. You got little leverage, as the marsh is not solid and every time you try to get up, you sink down again. Making you fight for every length. Crawling on your stomach, dividing your weight, is your best bet. 

You work up a sweat, soaking that which is not already covered in muddy water. The clothes are heavy, and do nothing but slow you down further. It's not long before your upper-body is aching, lungs struggling for every breath. But you dare not stop, not now. If you do, you might not start again. 

It is then, when you are on the brink of total exhaustion, the safety of land still out of reach, that you'll hear it. A sound unlike any other. You'll think it's a violin, or a flute. It is neither and it is both. Other. Not of this world, and the melody is hauntingly beautiful. Encouraging you to rest, to listen. Take a break, relax, what harm can it do?

You will have to make the decision to either remain in this world or leave it. It will be a choice made the moment you are aware you have one. If you're clever, you panic. You will struggle towards land, to jacked up on adrenalin to stop when you do, and you run. Never glancing back, never seeing those eyes gazing at you from the water. You'll live, and you will warn others, and hope they take more caution than you did. You will avoid quiet water for the rest of your time, for you are marked and It will find you.

If you hesitate, you're done for. You'll be too tired to start again, and with the melody filling your head, you don't think it would be too bad a way to go. You'd stop trying to keep yourself afloat. The clothes would drag you down, and the moss would close over your head, leaving you entombed in darkness, feeling safe. Lulled to sleep, unaware of the creature heading towards you, and then you would know no more.


End file.
